And the fall season came to pass and the old sod and wild grass was turned under all across the lands of the empire. None being taken for the summer harvest, ney for the animals nor the people. Nary a bale stored for the winter. And the people recieved not a blade, for it was either plowed in, burned or burried with the refuse.
And the seedsman came down from the north, bearing the annual rye seed for the winter crop. The seed was sown not on the rocky soil, nor on the infertile sands of the poor, nor on the barren soils of the roadside where only noxious weeds are grown, but only on the rich watered soils of the empire. Covered with a new layer of fertile soil and watered, it sprang forth as an emerald carpet.
And the poor tended the new grass for the rich to play on, while the poor had nary a new blade to feed a rabbit. And with each mowing of the new grass it became thicker and taketh deeper root, but the harvest was removed and taken to be burned. None for the animals, nor the people and none for enriching the barren lands all around.
And another winter season of rye grass will come and pass without a blade for the poor, nor the animals nor the barren lands. And when the heat of the desert springtime makes the rye thirst for all the available water, the water is used up. And the rye is mowed to the ground and not allowed to go to seed. None is reaped for the harvest, nary a seed is allowed to ripen. And the poor are left to the barren lands for another summer of searing desert heat and dust, while the rich go north to play in the lush summer wildflowers and forests.
And so it goes on through the milleniums, one Pharroh after another, while the poor wait for the coming of the Messiah to give the meek their earthly inheritance, to restore the Kingdom, the Garden, and the bountyful harvests for all mankind.